


blossom

by cardinalrachelieu



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, teach me how 2 bang, virgin!elain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-10 09:05:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10434234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardinalrachelieu/pseuds/cardinalrachelieu
Summary: “Elain,” Mor intones.“Right. Um.” Elain worries her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes flitting around anxiously. “I was wondering…”Mor tries to give her a moment to order her thoughts, but it’s still early and she’s only partway through her first cup of coffee and Elain started the conversation by asking herwhat sex was like,so she doesn’t exactly feel bad when she snaps. “Elain!”“I want you to teach me how to be good at sex!” Elain blurts, hands flying over her mouth as soon as the words are out, cheeks going pink and shoulders squeezed close together.





	1. part i

**Author's Note:**

> i'm trash but this is Pure™ and i won't hear a word against it

“Mor…” Elain peeps, padding into the kitchen of their shared house, a silent question hidden in the way her voice ticks up.

If she wasn’t familiar with Elain’s timbre, she would’ve dismissed the noise as Cassian’s bothersome cat whining for attention. Mor only hums, too preoccupied with nursing her first mug of coffee to give a proper greeting. It normally takes a cup-and-a-half of the stuff to get her somewhere near functioning, but it’s the weekend so she’s not in a rush like most mornings.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I don’t know when the boys’ll be back, Elain,” she drolls, popping a slice of melon into her mouth. Nesta had asked the same thing half an hour ago, when Mor was even less awake and less inclined to be polite, and the answer hadn’t changed since then. “Az didn’t tell me—”

“What’s sex like?”

Mor nearly chokes on the piece of fruit, and when she turns to look at Elain, her roommate’s eyes are nervous and her fingers are tangled in the hem of her loose-fitting t-shirt. Mor swallows the piece of honeydew and swivels on the bar stool to face Elain fully, cocking an eyebrow in question, no longer needing the aid of caffeine to feel awake.

“Wait—” Elain’s eyes go wide with embarrassment. “You’ve had sex before, haven’t you? Oh, I didn’t mean to assume—”

“Elain,” Mor cuts in, trying very hard not to roll her eyes.

“I just thought—”

“Elain,” she says again, and this time Elain listens. “Calm down. Yes, I’ve had sex.” She takes another sip of coffee and sets her mug squarely on the counter behind her. “A lot of it.”

“Oh good.” She sighs with relief, releasing the crumpled end of her shirt and dropping her hands to her sides. “I thought so. You always seem to know so much, and—” She jolts again, reaching toward Mor as if she’d hurt her. “I mean—Not that I think you’re—”

“Elain,” Mor intones.

“Right. Um.” Elain worries her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes flitting around anxiously. “I was wondering…”

Mor tries to give her a moment to order her thoughts, but it’s still early and she’s only partway through her first cup of coffee and Elain started the conversation by asking her _what sex was like,_ so she doesn’t exactly feel bad when she snaps. “Elain!”

“I want you to teach me how to be good at sex!” Elain blurts, hands flying over her mouth as soon as the words are out, cheeks going pink and shoulders squeezed close together.

Mor’s breath is suddenly nowhere to be found, lungs feeling empty, and she has to cough to get them working again. If it had been anyone else, she would’ve thought they were joking, but Elain… the way she’s nearly trembling in her floral pajamas and looking at her like the next words out of Mor’s mouth will determine whether or not she goes into witness protection… Mor can’t help but think she’s serious.

“You… want me… to teach you… sex tricks?” It’s a wonder she manages to say it with a straight face.

Elain nods, fingers loosening their grip on her jaw ever-so-slightly, palms still covering her delicate mouth.

Mor thinks about it; considers the half-dozen times Elain’s face has slipped into her mind late at night when her fingers make themselves busy; considers how it would affect Elain if she refused—or if she accepted.

“Alright,” Mor says carefully, smoothly dragging her coffee cup off the counter and hovering it just in front of her face. “What do you want to know?”

Elain drops her hands back to her sides and her eyes fixate on one of the floorboards, the toes of her right foot twisting a raw spot into one of the wooden planks, voice barely audible when she chooses to speak. “I was actually thinking… you could show me?”

The coffee scalds her throat and nose when Mor chokes on it, overwhelming her senses and making her eyes water a bit. “ _Show_ you?” she finally manages to say, brows raised in disbelief.

“Well…” Elain reasons, voice small, “yeah. I figured it would be the quickest way to learn.”

Mor very nearly gapes at Elain’s boldness, unsure of how to respond to the single most forward proposal she’s ever received—even including all the drunken idiots she’s run into at Rita’s on festival weekends. Not even five minutes ago, Mor was _positive_ Elain was the most innocent person on the whole planet. The woman loved gardening and volunteering to walk shelter dogs during her free time—and she always found somewhere else to be when Feyre and Nesta were around and Mor discussed the… _details_ of her relationships with her various lovers.

“Elain…” Mor begins, keeping her voice as steady as she can manage, “are you asking me… to have sex with you?”

She nods sheepishly, a full flush spreading over her neck and into her cheeks, suddenly finding the base moulding to be of intense visual interest.

Mor can’t help it; a smile breaks across her face because _honestly._ “Elain—”

“Forget I ever said anything,” Elain says in one breath, turning and bowing her head like she wants nothing more than to fold into herself, to erase this moment from history entirely. “It was a stupid idea—”

“I’m free right now.” Mor’s not sure where it comes from—perhaps it’s seeing Elain cower in embarrassment, or perhaps it’s the fact that she’s being given the opportunity to live out some fantasies she’d never actually thought would be possible—but Mor doesn’t regret the words in the slightest.

Elain turns—slowly. “R—Really?” she chirps, sounding like one of the baby birds she rescued last spring after their nest fell from the second floor balcony.

Mor only downs the rest of her coffee in one long pull and slides off the bar stool, taking Elain’s hand in her own and dragging her off toward the bedroom. “I hope you drank plenty of water in the last twelve hours,” she mutters, a sly grin on her face and a blossoming heat low in her gut.


	2. part ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome 2 the Sin Bin™
> 
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Elain spins so her back’s flush against the white wooden door to Mor’s bedroom, cheeks a bright, vibrant pink and a nervous excitement rolling off her. Mor crowds in close, slowly and intentionally fitting their bodies together as she reaches just to the side of Elain’s hip to turn the latch so they’re not disturbed.

“Mor, I’ve never been with—”

“A girl?” she says, wholly unsurprised, letting her fingers ghost over Elain’s side and delighting in the small shiver that has Elain’s eyes fluttering shut. It was only recently that her roommate had even _tried_ dating. And that had… not gone well. Elain, in her nineteen years, has probably had fewer sexual partners than even the pope, Mor thinks. “Don’t worry, I’ll drive.”

“—anyone.”

Mor pauses, Elain’s small frame pressed between her and the door, and draws back so she can look Elain in the eyes properly. “You what?”

Elain gulps, tucking a loose, sleep-mussed curl behind her ear and avoiding Mor’s gaze. “I haven’t actually… done anything…” she says, voice shrinking, “with anyone…”

Graysen, Mor recalls, thinking of the boy Elain broke up with two weeks ago. Elain had been dating him for five months before that, and Mor had always just assumed… “But I thought—”

“We never did anything,” Elain rushes, eyes snapping back to Mor, looking very much like she’d just been accused of robbing a bank.

 _“Nothing?”_ Mor asks, trying to mask the disbelief in her tone. It’s just… five _months…_

“Well, I mean…” Elain shrugs her shoulders and angles her head to the side, a crease forming in her brow as she dredges up some memory or another. “We kissed, but…”

“Nothing more?” she offers when Elain doesn’t finish the sentence.

Elain shakes her head, and Mor has to bite back a smile because the expression on Elain’s face is almost too much.

“Well,” Mor says, dropping her gaze and tugging on Elain’s nightgown to close the distance between them again, “do you want to have sex… _now?_ ”

Elain gives a sure nod, a cautious smile returning to her face as Mor’s fingertips find their way just underneath the hem of her silky, flower-printed slip.

Mor, using a single finger, traces a winding path up the front of Elain’s thigh, careful to apply barely any pressure at all. “With me?” Her voice has dropped into that lower register—the one only lovers hear.

Elain shudders and shifts her weight so her legs are spread just a _bit_ wider, letting her eyes fall shut as her head drops back against the door with a soft _thud._

Mor runs a finger over the lace-trimmed edges of Elain’s underwear, careful to keep her touches light. “You sure?” Mor breathes, placing her free hand on Elain’s hip to steady her when she begins to slump.

“Y—Yes,” she manages, both hands fisting in the sides of Mor’s nightgown.

“In that case,” Mor says, stepping back and threading her fingers through Elain’s, “sex lessons are being put on hold.”

“What?” Elain gasps, body surging forward in chase of Mor’s warmth. “But I—”

“ _You,_ ” Mor says pointedly, taking steps backward to guide Elain to the bed, “are going to enjoy yourself.”

Elain follows her without protest, allowing Mor to turn them around so the backs of Elain’s knees bump against the mattress. Her legs buckle and she drops down onto the bed, loose curls bouncing and falling over the tops of her mostly-bare shoulders. “But—”

“Let me take care of you,” Mor purrs, abandoning her effort to suppress the fire building in her core. She bends a leg and brings her knee to rest between Elain’s thighs, leaning forward until her roommate has no choice but to lay back. She looks beautiful like this, Mor thinks, flushed and a bit nervous and face still fresh from a full night’s rest.

“O”—she gulps—“Okay.”

“And if you can manage to focus”—Mor braces one hand against her sunset-toned duvet and slides her other arm under Elain’s waist, hoisting her farther onto the bed—“you might even pick up a few tricks.” She gives a wink and uses a knuckle to tip Elain’s chin upward.

She could back out now, if she wanted—both of them could. Not quite friends, not quite lovers; a liminal space populated by two souls who’d both be willing to forget it all if the other wanted, but—

Elain lifts herself up just enough to press her lips against Mor’s.

It catches her off guard, the boldness of the move. Though, when Mor thinks about it, Elain has always been bold—in her own way, with the things she wants. It’s a wonder Mor can ever forget that kindness and bravery walk hand in hand.

Mor gives herself over to the moment, tangling her fingers in Elain’s curls and letting her body slump a bit—just enough so hers and Elain’s chests are touching.

Elain tastes of fresh honey; smooth and pure—like sweet sunshine bottled up into a person. It’s fitting, Mor thinks, since Elain spends so many hours tending to the garden in front of their house, to the flowers she planted in an effort to give the nearby bees something to pollinate in this concrete rich, urban jungle of a college town.

Or perhaps it's simply because Elain had some melon for breakfast. Given the choice, Mor would prefer to believe her roommate just naturally tastes as saccharine as she looks.

The peaceful sigh Elain gives is enough to send a bolt of heat straight to Mor’s core. She always loves this part—loves the build up; loves learning what makes her partner’s toes curl; loves the slow, steady crescendo of energy until they’re both writhing and ruined and lost to the pleasure.

Mor somehow manages to tear her mouth from Elain’s—and the whine her roommate looses is _just_ desperate enough to make Mor proud of the effect she’s having on the woman underneath her. Before Elain can drag her back down, Mor pushes herself up and sits back on her heels, flattening her palms against the outsides of Elain’s thighs and sliding them toward her hips, the thin nightgown catching on her wrists and sliding upward as well.

Just above the lace band of Elain’s pastel blue underwear, a swath of skin becomes visible and Mor descends again, lips and teeth and tongue mapping a path up, up, up until they find the valley between Elain’s breasts. Elain’s fingernails scratch against Mor’s scalp as she arches her back and lets out a moan, and the combination sends a tingle down Mor’s spine.

Mor rucks the satiny material the rest of the way over Elain’s chest until the fabric is gathered in a pile on top of her collarbones, taking special care to touch and kiss and worship each new piece of her roommate she’s being allowed to explore. With her mouth sucking bruises onto the underside of Elain’s breasts, Mor guides her hands down Elain’s body, hooking her fingertips on the waistband of her roommate’s briefs.

With the barest of tugs, Elain is lifting her hips to help Mor drag the scrap of lace-trimmed cotton the rest of the way off her body. Mor discards it somewhere to her left, not caring where it lands, and then, as if she finally realizes what’s about to happen, Elain squeezes her legs together and drops her knees to the side.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Mor says, feeling her desire snap taught like a dog pulling at a chain, desperate to break free but unable to go anywhere. Patiently, Mor folds her hands into her lap and keeps her face neutral. The last thing she wants is for Elain to feel pressured; if they're going to do...  _this,_ it will be because Elain  _wants_ this.

“No,” Elain barks, pushing herself up on her forearms until her nightgown drops back around her waist, legs still firmly closed. “I want to—it’s just… well…”—her eyes focus on everything _but_ Mor—“I mean, no one’s ever…”—she gulps, finally dragging her timid gaze back to Mor’s—“seen me.”

Mor hums, a sly grin on her face as she leans forward and runs a hand over the outside of Elain’s leg, pausing when she reaches the meaty part of her hip. Then, eyes fixed on Elain’s, she sweeps her fingers over Elain’s hipbone and down the seam of her legs until her palm is gripping the inside of Elain’s thigh.

Gently, Mor lifts her hand, praying Elain trusts her enough to follow along—and is delighted when her roommate’s legs fall open and the look of uncertainty on Elain’s face is replaced by one of hunger.

“May I have the honor?” Mor purrs, eyes never leaving Elain’s, gliding her fingers up and down the inside of her roommate’s thighs—always skipping over the place Mor wants to touch most.

Elain’s eyes flutter shut and she collapses back onto the mattress. “Y—Yes,” she manages.

Mor smirks, victorious, and begins to crawl backward down the bed. It takes more self control than she’d like to admit, but Mor never looks anywhere save Elain’s face the entire time she’s settling her weight between Elain’s thighs, draping one leg over her shoulder and pushing the other one as wide as Elain’s body will allow.

It’s only when Elain lifts her head up to look down at Mor that Mor drops her gaze, thrilled to learn that Elain’s as slick as Mor had hoped she would be. Judging by the smoothness of the skin, save for a small triangle of dark curls, Elain is no stranger to waxing—which, is a bit unexpected but certainly not disappointing.

Mor runs two fingers over Elain’s entrance, slow and torturous, cataloguing each noise Elain makes for her— _because of_ her. Elain goes limp as she sighs out a melody that might’ve been Mor’s name, and it’s enough to tighten the coil winding deep in Mor’s gut. She runs her two fingers up and down the sides of Elain’s center, letting her roommate adjust to the sensation, not wanting to overwhelm her just yet—

But then Elain moans, and, before Mor can stop herself, she flattens her tongue and presses it squarely against Elain, licking up in one smooth swipe. Elain gasps and fists her hands in the covers, muscles going taut and knuckles turning white.

Mor pulls back. “You like that?”

Elain makes a strangled noise that sounds like _“Yes,”_ and it’s all the encouragement Mor needs to lower her mouth again.

Her lips tasted like honey, Mor remembers, but this part of Elain... _this_ part tastes like grapefruit; bitter and sweet all at once. Somewhere in the back of Mor’s mind she realizes her breakfast routine is going to have to change after this since she’s never going to be able to eat a grapefruit the same way ever again. Or maybe she’ll go right on eating grapefruit and be reminded of this moment every single time.

Elain bows off the bed when Mor presses her tongue against a certain spot, and it’s enough to banish all thoughts of breakfast routines for the time being.

She can decide later.

Mor’s always been good at puzzles, and humans are just the most difficult type—but not Elain. It barely takes Mor a full minute to figure out what Elain likes. Her roommate’s moans and way Elain occasionally tilts her hips lets Mor know the woman in front of her is fond of slow, broad swipes and fast-paced flicks across the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

A girl after her own heart, Mor thinks, biting back a grin so she doesn’t break her rhythm.

Mor slips a finger into Elain, and the groan Elain lets loose is positively indecent. It’s primal and urgent and demanding, and Mor never knew Elain was capable of making such a sound—and she’s determined to hear it again.

Mor buries another finger in Elain and her roommate keens at the sensation, back arching, one hand finding the top of Mor’s head—and Mor immediately stops.

Breathless, Elain furrows her brow and stares at her in annoyed confusion.

“Not yet,” Mor supplies, untangling herself from Elain as she gets up from the bed and walks confidently toward her dresser. It doesn’t take her long to find what she’s looking for, and when she spins back around, purple dildo in one hand and condom wrapper in the other, Elain’s eyes go wide.

There’s a cautious excitement burning inside Elain—Mor can see it in the way Elain bites her lip and hear it in the way Elain’s breath hitches as Mor steps ever closer.

“Wh—What’s that for?” Elain peeps, voice high and tight even though her legs are still splayed wide, nearly stretching from one side of the queen-sized bed to the other.

Mor says nothing, only tears the edge of the aluminum square with her teeth and rolls its contents over the silicone toy, using her knees to climb back on the bed.

“Is that a—”

“Do you trust me?” Mor interrupts, casually laying down perpendicular to Elain, snaking her arm under Elain’s legs and resting her cheek on Elain’s inner thigh. Mor flicks her gaze upward to see Elain nodding. “Good. Now… where were we?”

Adjusting her shoulder so the arm she threaded under Elain’s thigh is able to move, Mor runs her hand under Elain’s nightgown and up her torso. Elain gasps when Mor’s fingers find her breasts, and Elain instantly angles her body so Mor can better explore her chest. Her skin feels like rose petals, Mor thinks—soft and smooth and delicate.

Mor sets the toy down on her own thigh so it doesn’t touch the comforter and uses her mouth to work Elain back into a frenzy, licking and sucking and laving at her like a starved animal—and then Mor pushes her fingers back in, feels Elain’s walls clamp down as if to never let her retract them again.

Stifling a moan, Mor closes her lips around Elain’s clit and sucks. Mor can feel the stitching on her bedspread scraping against her upper arm, kissing indents into the skin each time Elain’s thigh jerks and pushes Mor’s arm into the mattress. It’s worth it though. The mark will fade, but the memory won’t.

And, as far as memories go, this is a pretty good one.

Elain’s hips buck and her muscles start to shake and she’s encouraging Mor in the best of ways. “Yes, yes, yes,” she mumbles, somewhere between breathing and praying, balanced on a razor thin edge, liable to topple one way or the other with the slightest nudge.

Mor withdraws her fingers and flattens her tongue, pressing against Elain with as much pressure as she dares, rocking her head from side to side in the way she’s learned Elain loves. Elain groans, low and guttural, and lets her legs go limp, both hands carding through Mor’s hair, urging her on.

Blindly, Mor reaches for the toy laying on her thigh and slowly swipes her tongue once more over Elain’s entrance. She pulls back just enough to see Elain’s face as she smoothly slides the dildo in, purple disappearing in pink, and is rewarded with the most obscene moan Elain’s let loose yet. Elain’s fingers go lax, hands dropping back to the bed as she adjusts to the new sensation.

Mor sinks the toy as deep as it will go, holding it stationary to let Elain get comfortable. “You like that?” she murmurs, already knowing the answer from the rumble echoing in Elain’s chest.

Elain whimpers a reply and, when words fail her, she rolls her hips—a plea for Mor to keep going. Grinning in satisfaction, she lightly bites the soft skin on Elain’s thigh and begins to move the dildo in and out, in and out—slowly at first until Elain bucks her hips, demanding she go faster.

Mor has never known Elain to be demanding, but pleasure can have that effect on people. She sucks a mark onto Elain’s thigh but obliges, gripping the toy firmly and picking up her pace, marveling at the sight of the neon purple shaft disappearing into Elain each time she pushes it forward.

It takes her a moment to focus again, find her rhythm, but then Mor’s bending her elbow and dragging her hand over Elain’s stomach—until her middle finger is resting atop Elain’s clit. The instant Mor starts to rub her fingers back and forth, Elain jolts and a surprised _Oh_ escapes her lips.

Mor can feel a cramp starting to form in her wrist from the odd angle she’s twisted it into—but she wouldn’t be caught dead complaining about her current lot in life. As far as Mor’s concerned, Elain could ask for the moon right now and Mor would probably find a way to get it for her—just as long as she keeps making those _damn noises._

Quaking violently enough to shake the bed, Elain mumbles a string of sounds just under her breath that has Mor thinking a whole language should be invented around the noises this girl can make. She’s been with vocal lovers before, but Elain is… different. She’s not performing like some of the others had. Every sound coming out of her is pure, raw.

It’s enough to make wetness pool between Mor’s own thighs—to know that all of Elain’s reactions are unfiltered, candid; to know that she’s the first one to hear all the lovely sounds Elain is capable of making.

Taking someone to bed is simple; _being_ with someone in bed is… not. Not normally. But… there’s an ease to all of this with Elain; something almost natural about the way their bodies fit together and the way Elain is responding to Mor’s touches.

Digging her heels into the mattress, Elain starts to lift off the bed, a mess of trembling limbs and barely coherent thoughts. Mor presses down on the tops of Elain’s hips to keep her where she wants her, pinning her to the pink-and-orange toned duvet with enough pressure that she can’t go anywhere.

Fat rays of morning light flood the room, bathing Elain in yellows and coppers, greeting the flowers printed all over her slip and fluttering across her bare skin in a golden aria. But the sun, for all its brilliance, is put to shame compared to the way Elain shines with the glow only hedonistic pleasure can bring.

Elain’s close, Mor knows it. If she can just keep her on the precipice a little bit longer…

“That’s it,” Mor soothes, careful to keep her pattern of strokes the same as they were a moment ago, careful to tow Elain through the rushing current without letting her get dragged under—not just yet.

Distantly, Mor wonders if she’ll ever be given this opportunity again—if Elain will even still speak to her after today. It was the risk she took when she agreed to this… _arrangement,_ but the prospect of this being a one-time-thing presses on Mor in a way it hadn’t before, and—

Elain comes quietly, Mor learns. Her whole body tenses and goes still, frozen in blissful rapture; even Elain’s lungs stop working as the final wave builds and crests within her. Mor works her through it, single-minded in her task, fingers mercilessly rubbing at her clit as her other hand drives the toy in and out, over and over and over again—until Elain finally breathes and tries to squirm away, letting out a soft yelp as she twists her body to escape Mor’s touch.

Mor doesn’t bother hiding the smirk on her face. Besides, it’s not as if Elain’s likely to look down and actually _see_ Mor gloating—not with the way Elain’s eyes are still screwed shut and her breathing is coming in labored huffs.

Gingerly, Mor removes the toy, taking her sweet time to pull it all the way out, relishing in all the seismic jerks Elain’s body is giving off as she recovers from the ride, and, before she can stop herself, Mor covers Elain’s center with her mouth once again, lapping at the new slickness.

Elain gives a groan, letting her legs fall wider, and Mor almost doesn’t stop herself from accepting the invitation.

_Almost._

“Mor?” Elain croaks, throat raw, one arm flung over her still-closed eyes.

“Mmm,” Mor hums, licking her lips and dropping a kiss onto the soft skin of Elain’s inner thigh, running the backs of her fingers up and down Elain’s other leg.

“That was perfect,” she mumbles, that distinct lightness returning to her voice one heartbeat at a time.

There’s something in the way Elain says it, breathless and honest in the way people only are after sex, and Mor knows Elain means every word.

_Perfect._

Half an hour ago, Mor didn’t believe there _was_ such a thing. Times, places, people—none of them had ever been anything near perfect. But now, cradled between Elain’s thighs in a holy embrace, she thinks this time, this place, this person… is awful close.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on [tumblr](http://yalenayardeen.tumblr.com) about ladies ruining _your_ life bc i can't be alone in this dumpster, right? _right??_


End file.
